


New Partners, Forever Partners

by DruidX



Series: The Vexations of Elo O'Toreguarde [3]
Category: Titan - The Fighting Fantasy World
Genre: Broken Bones, Explosions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26193967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DruidX/pseuds/DruidX
Summary: In which Elo and Farren work their first case together.
Relationships: Alexis Dalliance & Elowyn O'Toreguarde, Elowyn O'Toreguarde & Farren Breakwood
Series: The Vexations of Elo O'Toreguarde [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902259
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

"...and the string says, 'No, I'm a frayed knot'! Eh? Eh? Geddit?" The human looked sideways at his little companion, who resolutely ignored him in favour of staring through her spyglass. "Geeze, O'Toreguarde. Do you ever smile?"  
"Not if I can help it, Breakwood. Now shush. I'm trying to concentrate," the woodling said, glaring through the spyglass.  
"Well, now I can see why you've lost the last four partners you've been assigned to," Breakwood said, sniffing with a mock-air of snobbishness. He looked away and at the view around them. 

While the majority of buildings within Toreguarde's walls were only a few stories high at most, the double towers of the Council and the Wizards' dominated the skyline. The former glowed, white marble absorbing the afternoon sun and reflecting it from the center of the city, while the latter glistered darkly in the North-West, a nimbus of purple and something...  _ other _ ... surrounding the tough stone. Between the two towers, nestled inside the city's walls, were numerous dwellings, pubs, warehouses, washing lines and the odd spire, shimmering in the heat of a mid-summer sun. 

It was up one of these spires the Watchmen sat, on a maintenance ledge, the spyglass of Officer O'Torguarde trained on a warehouse opposite, and the canal it backed onto.  
"No, Constable Breakwood," the woodling shot back, finally lowering the 'glass to glower at her duty partner, "Constables Monday, Gurbek, Mag and Sargent Taube simply were not able to keep pace with my level of due diligence."  
"Yeah, sure," Breakwood drawled. "That's why they each called you a pompous, cold-hearted, self-righteous  _ ha'rak _ ."  
The woodling's glower faltered. "They... They said that?" she asked.  
"Aye," Breakwood said, looking away again, his dark brown hair ruffled by the warm summer wind, "but what does it matter what a couple of two-bit coppers think, eh?" He turned back, giving her a nonchalant smile, and pulling out a green tobacco pouch. "Your diligence is just fine, but you could do with warming up a little. You just need someone to break through that tough little exterior and find the softey within."  
Instantly the glower returned. "And you think you are that person?" she asked, returning her attention to the warehouse below.  
"Aye. You just need a friend little bug, and there ain't none as friendly as me," Breakwood said grinning hugely, fingers automatically moving to make a rolled cigarette.  
"Ugh, Galana save me from chirpy, grammar-less humans."

~ * ~

"Well, that could have gone better," Breakwood said, hauling O'Toureguarde out of a pile of flour sacks, the white powder billowing around them. The woodling coughed, flapping at the dust-filled air.  
"You think?" she snapped. "Gods, do you know how hard it is to wash flour off? I'm covered!"  
"Breakwood! O'Toreguarde!" Pounding feet could be heard through the cloud of flour. The two Watchmen turned as a grey, tusk-filled face came out of the fog. "Do you catch him? Tell me you caught him!"  
"No Sarg," said Breakwood.  
"I assume that means you didn't get him either?" O'Toreguarde asked, scowling.   
The Sergeant shook his head. "All the other teams are outside," he said. "They might have something, but I'm not getting my hopes up. Check in with Lieutenant Bonham," the orc ordered, before turning and walking out of sight.  
O'Toreguard unleashed a fusillade of angry Eshen - the woodling language - and punched a sack. "We lost him!" she snarled through the plume of flour that shot up. "I am covered in flour, and we didn't even catch the  _ kuspaa _ !"  
Breakwood gently took her shoulder, steering her towards an exit, as his little partner pawed at the powder on her face.  
"Priorities, Little Bug, priorities," he said as they passed out of the flour cloud. "At least no one was hurt, eh?"  
"Will you  _ stop _ calling me that!" O'Toreguarde said. "We are  _ not _ friends, and it is not appropriate to conduct yourself in such a way in a professional environment!"  
"Give it time, Li'l Bug," Breakwood told her, sounding almost smug. "I'll grow on you, you'll see. Just like moss... or is that lichen?"  
O'Toreguarde stopped, rounding on this stupid twiceling she'd been saddled with, intending to tell him exactly what she thought, when she noticed that he had a rolly in his mouth and matchbook in hand. Grass-green eyes flew wide with panic, as match head made contact with striking pad.  
"Breakwood!" she screamed. The match flared. "NO!" The woodling sprang. He took a puff, habitually flicking the match behind him.  
"What the-?"  
O'Toreguarde grabbed his shoulder, propelling him towards the doors as she propelled herself forward, hand clutching around the match.

It was too late. Heat licked at the woodling's face. Air rushed around her, then exploded outwards with a concussive force that lifted the human from his feet. It drove them both out the warehouse, wood splintering around them, as they tumbled into the canal beyond.

"O'Toreguarde!"   
The little woman coughed and spluttered, clinging to a piece of wreckage.   
"O'Toreguarde!  _ Elowyn! _ "   
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the ringing, stuffy sensation in her head. Breakwood's voice was fuzzy and distant, and her own didn't seem to work just yet.   
"Gods preserve me. Elowyn! Where are you? Please be alive. Cap'n's gonna fire me if I lose another partner. Then the Shot-in-the-Dark's going to murder me for losing her daughter! Sweet Libra.  **_Elowyn O'Toreguarde, where ARE YOU_ ** ?"  
The Woodling pushed damp brown hair from her face. Words didn't work, but, she reasoned, other noises might. She yelled.  
"Elowyn!" Breakwood's face appeared over the edge of the canal, his normally laconic expression gone, pinched instead in worry and pain. "Libra's blessed scales tip in my favour today," he said relaxing at the sight of his little partner, bedraggled but alive. "Right then O'Toreguarde, let's get you out of there."  
Breakwood cautiously lowered himself to the ground, right arm clutched over his chest in a way that told her something was broken. He looked awful; scrapes and cuts covered his hands and face, and he steamed gently - water evaporating from the scorched leathers.  
"O'Toreguarde!" the human snapped, bringing the woodling's focus back on their current situation. "I need you to paddle over to me."  
The little watchman nodded and attempted to lift her legs, but only one would move. She tried to float herself and kicked anyway, and only resulted in sinking beneath the surface.  
"Damnit!"  
"Farren! There you are," came a lighter voice. Breakwood turned to see a Watch officer running over the scrub of ground that separated them from the burning warehouse behind. Tall and sturdy, his heart lifted at the sight of her.  
"Murna!" he called out. "O'Toreguarde's in the water, drowning. I can't swim - broken arm."  
The steps of his fellow human slowed as she took this in, increasing again in pace, until she was running, casting off her sword belt and thrusting it into Breakwood's hands.  
"Where?" she said, as he pointed to the bobbing, broken plank.  
"I see," she said, and dove in.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where is she?"   
Breakwood turned to see a raven-haired woodling stalking into the Watchhouse, a scowl on her face. Most Watchmen moved out her way on instinct, a few lesser officers quailing at the sight of this tiny, ferocious creature in their midst. Everyone knew who she was - her statue stood proud in the Circle of Heroes, after all - and no one dared get between her and her quarry. Except, for all that might otherwise have been a good plan, a mother wolf who cannot find her young is more dangerous still. Officer Breakwood sighed, pulled away from the desk on which he was leaning - minding his arm of course, and took a breath, desperately trying to recall the woman's real name.  
"Mistress Dalliance?" he asked. Her gaze snapped around, sharpening on him, and he wondered, momentarily, if the stories of her killing with just a look were true.  
"Where is she?" the woman - Alexis Dalliance, Shot-in-the-Dark, Hero of Toreguarde - growled again.  
Breakwood bowed ever so slightly. "Officer O'Toreguarde is being seen by the Hedge."  
The glare lightened, not much, but enough for him to see she was relieved at this news.  
"If you'd follow me, I can take you to her?"  
The woodling's only response was a sharp, cursory nod. Breakwood took that as a good sign, and turned away, walking towards a door at the rear of the main office. 

Breakwood only felt a slight sense of surrealism as he led the Hero through corridors of dun green. She walked a little behind him, at his left - the better, he supposed, to draw her weapon if he proved to be false. And what a weapon! His eyes washed over her, past the crown of short black hair, past the shoulders clad in black leather, to where the stock of the legendary Draenenscáth rested on her hip.  
"I suggest you quit eyeing up my hardware, lest you want to feel its bite," she said.  
Breakwood quickly returned his eyes front and center. "Sorry Ma'am," he said. "Just, I ain't ever seen a weapon like yours afore."  
At his side, the Shot-in-the-Dark gave an indelicate snort. "And I doubt you will again, but that's no reason to get all googly-eyed while you're supposed to be on task."  
"Yes Ma'am," he replied, basking in the legendary bark that backed up the legendary bite.

Shortly they came to a door, at which Breakwood knocked.  
"I'm wi' a patient!" came an aggrieved dwarvish voice from within. "Unless yer dyin', y'kin bugger off!"  
"Matilde, it's Officer Breakwood," the human said, glancing at the woodling at his side. Her shoulders were rigid, and spine straight, but the spinning blade in her hand told a different tale. He had a strong suspicion that she would enter regardless of anyone's feeling on the matter if he waited much longer.  
"I already dealt wi' you. Ye kin bugger off, an' all!"  
"Matilde, I-"  
"Oh sod this," Dalliance muttered, and shoved open the door. "Mistress Healer, I'll thank you not to stand between me and mine." The woodling strode into the small infirmary, Breakwood hurrying in behind.  
"How dare you!" Matilde spluttered, spinning from where she stood next to a tall bench, but Dalliance paid the cursing dwarf no mind as she crossed the floor.  
"Alexis!  _ Shonmo _ !" O'Toregurade said, startled. She tried to jump to her feet, but the elder woodling reached her first.  
"No. Sit," she said, pushing the Watchman back down. "What's injured?" the Hero asked, glancing at the healer.  
" _ Shonmo _ , I've failed you," O'Toreguarde said, once again trying to gain her feet. This time it was the hedgewitch who pushed her back.  
"Ach, sit down, ye blithy," Matilde said, before turning to Dalliance. "She's got a lot of blistering t'her face, the chance o'rattly lungs, a broken leg and apparently her brain's been jumbled. Aside from that, she's a very lucky gal. Clearly 'tis true what they say - th' Gods smile on fools and children."  
Dalliance nodded. She reached into her cloak and pulled out a pair of faintly glowing blue potions. "These should help," she said, handing them to the hedgewitch who nodded her thanks. Alexis glanced at Breakwood. "If there's any left give it to the twiceling."  
"The twiceling has a name, Alexis," O'Toreguarde said, glancing with an apology in her eyes at her duty partner.  
"Most of them do,  _ sheinea _ . Doesn't mean I care to learn it while you sit there and look like someone tried to roast you. Why do you assume you failed me?" Dalliance said, and Breakwood noted some of the tension had gone from her shoulders.  
However, if it had left the one woodling, it had transferred to the other - O'Toreguarde stiffened, as if expecting a blow. "I must have done, else you wouldn't be here."  
"Am I forbidden from checking on my student when I hear she has been involved in a terrible incident?"  
Matilde snorted from where she had turned away to a workbench on the adjacent wall, and Breakwood smiled, relaxing into his usual laconic pose of leaning against the nearest bare wall. His free hand automatically sought the tobacco pouch, before he realised he'd need two hands to make his roll-up.  
"Well, no. I mean-" O'Toreguarde mumbled.  
"Then I'll thank you to let me fuss as much as I please. I'm not stupid, Bug. I know you'll get into more scrapes than I can be around for, so I'd like to get my fill while I'm still able."   
"Um,  _ Shonmo _ ? Could you not call me that here?" O'Toreguarde asked, glancing again at Breakwood, her cheeks pinking. He smirked back at her.  
"Of course  _ sheinea _ ," Dalliance said, and by O'Toreguarde's rolled eyes, Breakwood had to assume that wasn't better. The Shot-in-the-Dark's posture relaxed further, Breakwood noted, and she reached out to cup her student's face in a motherly gesture. "I was worried about you, love," she said softly. "For all your training, for all that I've taught you, it mightn't've been enough. Everything could've ended in a heart's beat. If your mother thought I'd left you the slightest bit unprepared... I don't want to fail you either."  
"But you-" The younger woodling looked shocked. "You're the Shot in the Dark. The Last Hope. The bright ember in a dying fire... You can't fail. It's physically impossible."  
Dalliance drew away. "Oh. Right. That," she said, running a hand over her face. "You know, I keep forgetting people persist in using those ridiculous names."  
"Ain't too ridiculous if it's true," muttered Matilde from where she was pottering about at her bench. Dalliance sighed.  
"I'm not having this argument again," she said, shoulders slumping. "Sure, fine. Dying embers. Whatever. You gonna feed that potion to my girl or not? I didn't bring it for my health, after all."  
"Ach, keep your heroic panties on. I'm portionin' it oot. I dinnae ken what kinda hurts ye've been off an' gettin', but this stuff's more 'n plenty fer the little miss, and th' twiceling beside. The rest'll keep for any other fool that passes my threshold in bits. How much did y'want for it?"  
"Guys, he has a name!" O'Toregurade said, throwing her hands up in despair.  
"A favour," said Dalliance, ignoring her student. "Keep her in good health?" The hedgewitch pulled a face. "As much as possible, obviously. I don't expect miracles - I have a cleric for that."  
"Not to worry, Li'l Bug," Breakwood said, seemingly the one one who'd heard. "I kinda like it."  
"You know it's an insult, right?"  
"Aye, but they don't mean it like that, so it's all good."  
O'Toreguarde pinched the bridge of her nose. "Gods have mercy..."

"So was anyone else hurt then?" Alexis asked, speaking quietly to hedgewitch.  
"None so far as I have been told," Matilde replied. "Not that I know much o're what happened." The dwarf glanced over her shoulder at the two Watchmen.  
"Hurm." Alexis turned. "So what did happen?" she asked.  
"That is what I, too, would like to know," came a new voice from the doorway. All heads turned to see an older gentleman, shorter than Breakwood, but taller than the hedgewitch.  
"Sir," Breakwood nodded, pulling himself carefully away from the wall.  
"Captain Withnail!" O'Toregarde jumped, once again attempting to slide from her perch to stand to attention.  
"Throff's Beard! Would ye stay sat, ye daft wee beastie!" Matilde snapped. "Yer only gonna make it worse with all this jumpin' around."  
"At ease officers," Withnail said, then aimed a nod at the healer. "Mistress Stonedig. Good to see you practical as ever. Mistress Dalliance, an unexpected pleasure." He paused, carefully placing his hands behind his back, in a thoughtful gesture. "Mistress Stonedig, I trust I won't be impeding you in any way if I question my officers? No? Excellent. Right then, you two. I'm just back from speaking to some very irate dockworkers, several annoyed bakers and one fuming property owner. If you'd be so kind as to answer Mistress Dalliance's question, I'm sure we'd all be most appreciative to learn what exactly in blue blazes happened for the two of you to explode a grain warehouse!"  
The two watchmen exchanged a look, as the Blade of Toreguarde heroically stepped back and out of the firing line, while Matilde just grumbled at her workbench.  
"Well, Sir," Breakwood began, "what happened was this..."


	3. Chapter 3

"...and that was about the point we got back to the Watchhouse and brought O'Toreguarde straight to the Hedge," Breakwood finished.  
"I see," said Captain Withnail, from where he'd moved to lean on Matilde's workbench. The veteran Watchman sighed and rubbed his face. "Well, Breakwood, it looks like you're back on desk duty again for a while. O'Toreguarde, you're on medical leave for a week."  
"But Sir! I'm all healed up now. I don't need a whole week of recovery," the younger woodling said, standing up to prove the healing potion she'd been given had indeed worked as expected.   
The Captain looked over at the Watchhouse healer. "Mistress Stonedig?"  
"Well, mebby no' a week, but a few days, for sure. It's jus' ta be on the safe side," she added, aiming the comment at O'Toreguarde, quelling any argument the young watchman might have mustered.  
"Aye," Withnail nodded, "and it'll give me a chance to look again at the duty rosters. I'm going to find you both new partners. Again."  
"All due respect, Captain," said Breakwood, "I'm okay with O'Toreguarde for my partner."  
"Need I remind you that together you not only mangled an operation we'd been planning for a month, but that you also caused massive property damage? You're very lucky there was a chapel just around the corner with experienced enough clerics to summon water to put out the flames. As it is, you destroyed a vital supply depo, put lives and livelihoods on the line, not to mention the reputation of this 'House and the Watch in general!"  
"Aye, but sir," Breakwood said quietly, "she saved my life. Had I listened that fraction sooner, a lot more would have been saved besides. There is no fault in her actions. By all accounts there never has been - she's just not as personable as some might like." The human paused, glancing over to where O'Toreguarde stood blushing furiously and gave an easy shrug. "She might do me some good."  
There was that indelicate snort again, and Dalliance seemed to rematerialize from the shadows.  
"Sounds like you might do each other a world of good," she said, giving a little smile. "But this is Watch business, so I'll not intrude." She walked to the door, giving Withnail a nod. "I'll see what can be done about the warehouse, if not the content thereof. Seems I have friends in high places now; may as well make best use of them." She gave a last nod of farewell, eyes lingering on her student, before she left.  
"Sir..." O'Toreguarde said after the door closed. "If I might speak plainly? I believe that Officer Breakwood, and my mentor, might be correct. As much as it grieves me to admit, had I not been so caught up on doing my duty and neglecting my duty partner as a person, I might have otherwise noticed Breakwood's tendency to chain-smoke through his anxiety. I might have known that the first thing he'd do would be to light up, and I could have stopped the match from ever being struck. It's true I tend towards being a...  _ ha'rak _ . There is a possibility we might even each other out."  
"Hurm." Captain Withnail frowned at both of his officers in turn, arms crossed, his only movement for a long while being the drumming of his fingers. Finally, he lifted his chin with a sniff and another grunt. "Well. As I said, I will have to look over the duty rosters again. Until then, you both have your orders. Mistress Stonedig," he said, giving a nod to the Hedge, before turning on his heel and matching from the room.  
The pair of officers paused, glancing at each other warily.  
"Well, go on. Git," Matilde said. "Ye're both healed well enough; I'll not have you loitering around my infirmary, making t'place look untidy. Shoo."

~*~

The two officers left the infirmary, but O'Torguarde lingered rather than turning away to head to the barracks.  
"You didn't have to do that, you know," she said quietly, before the human could leave.  
Breakwood raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"  
"Speak up for me, I mean. We're not partners anymore. It was no longer your duty to do so."  
Brewood crossed his arms. "Aye, but then, neither was it yours," he pointed out.  
"I only spoke the truth."  
"As did I."  
O'Torguarde tilted her head to one side and frowned up at him. Then she straightened, took a breath, standing taller. "Constable Breakwood-"  
"Farren."  
"-Farren. Thank you." She paused, but her gaze never wavered. "Even if we are not to be duty partners, I- I should still like to be friends. Unless I have lost that right..."  
The human let out a bark of laughter. "Ah, li'l bug," he said, fondly ruffling her hair. "That ain't something can be lost so easily." His hands once again sought the tobacco pouch as he nodded, an easy grin on his lips. "Seems we might coax you from that shell after all, eh? Say," he added, as they turned away towards the barracks, "did I ever tell you the one about the three holes in the ground...?"


End file.
